Finding The Hay In The Needle Stack
by amelia.amour
Summary: She's frustratin', confusin', and quite possibly the most stubborn person I've ever met. Yet here I am, about to board a plane to the biggest city in America just to find her because I'm absolutely crazy about her. ;Zoe/Wade
1. Prologue

**Title:** Finding The Hay In The Needle Stack**_  
><em>Rating:** T [for suggestive themes; language]  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Wade/Zoe; minor George/Lemon  
><strong>Summary:<strong> She's frustrating, confusin', and quite possibly the most stubborn person I've ever met. Yet here I was, about to board a plane to the biggest city in America because I'm absolutely crazy about her.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Hello and welcome to my latest creation! When I first watched Hart of Dixie, this idea planted itself in my head. After much thought, I've decided I would take on the challenge of writing an actual story for this archive. I really hope you enjoy reading this story if you plan on sticking through with it. This chapter is a sort of prologue, if you will. The entire story will alternate between Zoe and Wade's P.O.V's each chapter.

_**ATTENTION:**_ I've re-uploaded this chapter because I have decided to challenge myself with writing in 1st person. There rest of this story will also be in 1st person and will alternate between Zoe and Wade's P.O.V each chapter. If you've read this before I changed it, then you don't have to read it again because it's basically the same, I just tweaked a few things. However, I would really appreciate to hear any thoughts of which version is better. I really appreciate you're cooperation guys and I apologize for the sudden change of plans.

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>"Sometimes our light goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being."<em>

_- Albert Schweitzer  
><em>

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><p><span>.Prologue.<span>

**_.Zoe._  
><strong>

A chilling wind pricks at my cheeks and exposed arms causing goosebumps to crawl along my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek as I yank open the door and stumble inside the gate house - I refuse to refer to the tiny apartment-sized abode as my 'house' because at this moment, I can't call it home. I slam the door with so much vigor that for a moment, I'm genuinely surprised the old rickety thing didn't break off of the hinges. Furiously, I swipe at the tears that are unwillingly escaping from my eyes with my left hand and from my right hand, drop an empty bottle of cheap wine onto the hard floor. In an instant, I'm standing in front of my bedroom closet, snatching out the biggest suitcase I own and tossing it onto my bed. Like a whirlwind, I'm flying around the room from drawer to drawer, throwing anything I had to my name chaotically into the open case. I was never one for vulgar language - mom had always said _intelligent_ people don't need to say such words - yet here I was, muttering profanities left and right like they were the only pieces of vocabulary I knew.

Of course, it didn't take long for my actions to go uninterrupted; someone was pounding on my front door and hollering my name from outside. For some reason that I don't quite understand, I ignore whoever the person is. Although my guess is Lavon or Wade. Almost as if in a trance-like state, I continue to shove things carelessly into the suitcase. It isn't until two hands seize hold of my shoulders that I'm forced out of my mechanical state and back into reality. Where I sure as hell don't want to be right now.

"Doc! What are you doing?"

The hands on my shoulders spin me around quickly. My head protests loudly, not appreciating the sudden rapid movement. When my brain catches up, I recognize the man I'm now face to face with. Wade is looking at me with what could only be concern. It occurs to me now that this is the first time he's looked at me with this particular expression. I'm quick to turn my head away from him and I catch my reflection in the large mirror I had asked Wade to put up on the wall months ago. Underneath my eyes are dark stains from my Rimmel mascara that had run. My brown eyes are red and glazed over, while my dark curls are in a messy tumble past my shoulders. I look a complete mess. And my mind parallels my appearance in it's perpetual state of pandemonium. A million and one thoughts are jumbling together and each individually weighing heavy on my conscience. Never before had I wanted so badly as to scream.

"Doc?"

I strip my gaze away from the reflection, draw in a deep breath to muster up any kind of courage left, and look up directly into his hazel eyes. Ignoring the chaos pounding inside of my head, I try to force out something. Anything that could express the absolute frustration that makes me want to tear out my hair. But instead, a voice from earlier today distracts me and echoes in the back of my mind, clear over all of the other thoughts:

'_You don't belong here.'_

"I…" I pause. Swallowing hard to open my tightened throat so that my voice doesn't crack or shake. I'm Zoe_ freaking_ Hart for crying out loud. "I can't do this anymore."

The words come out emotionless, which I suppose is as good as it's going to get.

"What do you mean by _'this'_?" He asks, finger quoting as he emphasizes the word. Only Wade would use finger quotes at a time when a person is shattering to pieces right in front of him. If it had been anyone else, I might have felt offended.

But this was Wade. And I know him well enough to figure out that he's only doing that to try and make me laugh. Or punch him.

I settle with rolling my eyes, because I certainly don't feel like laughing and I don't have the energy to throw a punch. Or the coordination to actually land one on him for that matter. When I look back into his eyes, I immediately cave and start pouring out frantically what's running through my head. "By _'this'_, I mean everything! I feel like every time I walk down the freaking street I'm throwing myself to the sharks!" I start to feel dizzy and sit down on the edge of the bed and cup my head in my hands, still rambling on. " Everywhere I go, it's always 'It's all your fault, ya know?' or 'Doctor Breeland could have saved them' or 'Go back to where you came from' or -"

"Zoe!" He calls my name. My actual name. Instead of the usual 'Doc'. And as strange as it is to hear off of his lips, I feel a shudder run down my spine that I both love but hate at the same time. His hands grab my wrists and I lift my head to see him on his knees, now level with me. "You need to calm down and think about what you're doing." He glances over at the clumsily packed suitcase then back to me. "You can't just pack up and leave."

I can see on his face, clear as day, that he cares. And, for a moment, I'm reminded that not everyone in this town completely hates me. But I just shake my head. I had made up my mind in the past 24 hours of constant pondering over what was best for me, and everyone else, in this situation. I concluded that there was nothing left for me in Bluebell, Alabama. The reputation I had worked so hard to achieve, was officially shot, patients were dropping left and right for Brick, and soon enough he would have my half of the practice.

All because I couldn't save _them_.

I failed myself, my patients, and worst of all, my own late-father, Harley. And surprisingly, that was what had hurt the most. Despite the fact that I had never really known the man, it didn't help to stop the heavy feeling of disappointment that I couldn't fill his shoes and keep his tradition alive. Wade releases my wrists and cups the sides of my face, using his thumbs to brush away the few stray tears on my cheeks. His hands are hot against my skin that is still cold from the windy walk home. I lock my eyes with his and see complete seriousness in them. "Zoe, promise me you won't do anythin' stupid?"

I want to laugh. Smile and say 'I promise.', that I would wake up and see him and Lavon at breakfast like every morning. But I would be lying. And I wasn't about to add that to the rapidly growing list of my disappointments. Could I ever live with myself if I let down the only people that still cared about me in this town?

The answer was no. No, I couldn't. There was absolutely no way I was going to stick around just to fail the closest people I had to a family in Bluebell. I had to get out - out of this small town and move on so that the people I cared most about wouldn't be let down. They deserved that much. I suppose everyone was right all along; I wasn't cut out to fill Harley's shoes.

"Zoe-"

I kiss him ferverishly, with all the force I can conjure up. And with my fingers in his hair, I lean back to lay on the bed and take him with me.

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><p><strong>This was short, but then again it's a prologue. I realize this prologue may seem a bit out of character, but I kind of had to make it a more serious tone. Thank you for reading and if you have any comments, complaints, or concerns then please review or message me! Especially if you see any grammar mistakes, ALERT ME, please lol. Compliments are always welcome too (;<strong>

**Looking forward to writing this for you all.  
><strong>


	2. Wake Up Call

**Thank you all so much for reviewing and adding this to your story alerts! I really appreciate the praise, like you have no idea haha. I'm actually really happy with how this particular chapter turned out and I hope you enjoy it too.**

**Note: Language is in this chapter. I believe there are three? I don't know. It's just fair warning.  
><strong>

**Quick reminder: I updated the last chapter from third person to first person (For more explanation, see the prologue) and announced that I will be flipping between Zoe and Wade's P.O.V each chapter. I based this style of writing after the story Streetlights by amberpire which is breathtaking. I love her writing design.  
><strong>

**Anyways, I'm rambling, Enjoy!  
><strong>

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><p><em>"Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it, everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, never… never forget it." <em>

_-Curtis Judalet_

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><p><strong><span>.Chapter One.<span>  
><strong>

**_.Wade._**

I wake up to a ceiling that isn't mine.

Which would probably bother me more if not for the intense brightness that fills the room the second I open my eyes. I blink a few times and that along with the incessant chirping outside, is all it takes to shove off the sleep and begin gaining the feeling through my body ever so slowly. My mind begins to clear itself as I attempt to piece together how I got here and where exactly 'here' was. The memories of last night come to me in fragments: pulling up to my house, shouts and cries coming from her house, my knuckles banging on her front door, holding her mascara and tear stained face, her lips - tasting of cherries - on mine...

It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened after that.

I can't stop the small smirk that takes form on my lips while I focus on getting feeling in my left arm that I remember was draped over her tiny frame before I had fallen asleep. And then I'm momentarily puzzled when I realize that it's far too cold in the space next to me for there to be someone. I open my eyelids halfway - my eyes still sensitive to the intense sunlight - and instead of Zoe, I see nothing but sheets thrown back where she had once been laying. I prop myself up on my right arm and clutch a handful of the white fabric with my left hand. My eyes start from the empty spot and move down to the wooden floor, up the wall and then in a complete circle around the diminutive room that somehow feels emptier than it did last night.

Immediately, I'm out of her bed and throwing on my clothes from the night before - still smelling faintly of alcohol from work - that strangely had been folded up neat on the bedside table and not scattered around the room like I had expected. As I shrug on my favorite plaid shirt and begin buttoning it up quickly, not really caring if the buttons go into their respective slots, I call out for her.

"Hey, Doc?"

Nothing.

"Doc?"

The silence that follows confuses me and something inside clicks that makes my eyes fly frantically around the room in search of a particular burgundy suitcase. When not even a trace is found, I'm already stepping over to the closet at the opposite end of the room, echoes of each step growing louder than the last. I clutch the brass knob and swing open the door, only to be downcast by the bareness that would make anyone think the closet hadn't been in use for years.

I mutter a curse underneath my breath before I run out the door, on course for Lavon's house. When I reach the top of the steps, I yank the backdoor open, holding on to a smudge of hope that maybe I would see Zoe sitting in her self-assigned bar stool like any other morning. That last light of hope is blown out instantaneously when all I see is Lavon standing over the stove, frying up what smells like scrambled eggs. He looks up from his work and smiles to me with his usual 'good morning' smile. "Mornin' Wade, my man. You're just in time for-"

"Have you seen Zoe?"

Confusion is written clear on the tall man's face, clear indication that he likely knows just about as much as I do. "No, I thought she was still sleeping."

"Well she's not!" For a moment, I regret responding so quickly and awkwardly clear my throat before repeating it once more with less forcefulness. "She's not. And her closet's empty."

There's a silence from Lavon until he raises an eyebrow disapprovingly. "Do you really need to raid every woman's closet? I mean, come on man-"

"I do not raid every girl's closet! It was just those four times in high school an-" I quickly stop myself. This was getting off topic. "Forget it. Look, I'm being serious! Come and see for yourself!"

I don't wait for Lavon to say anything and instead start for the gate house, knowing all to well that Lavon was going to follow me anyways. The slamming of the backdoor that I had specifically left wide open was clear indication that I was right. Once at the gate house, Lavon right on my heel, I open the front door and step inside.

The house looks even emptier now than it had been only minutes ago. With a closer look, I notice the pictures that were once hung at perfect angles, of Zoe's New York family and friends, were all gone. Leaving only silver nails protruding out of the wall. The coat hanger at the right of the door was stripped clear and the small coffee table was cleared of everything that once rested on it's surface.

With a quick glace at Lavon, I lead the way into the Doc's bedroom and point at the empty closet that was still wide open. While Lavon is looking inside the closet, I start yanking open the dresser draws that were utterly void of any clothing whatsoever. Each drawer after the next remained the same as the ones preceding. Not a single thing was left.

"Hey, isn't this you're watch?"

Lavon's words make me stop my searching and I turns to see my friend lifting up my silver watch from the bedside table, where I now remember putting it before falling asleep with Doc in my arms. I held up my hands, signaling for the ex-football star to toss the wristwatch over. Instead of throwing the object, Lavon just stares at it then looks at the bedside table and back to the watch again. I can already see something click in the mayor's head as he looks up at me with an expression of both disbelief and curiosity. "Did you…"

He doesn't finish the sentence, expecting me to know just exactly what the rest of the question is. A question I couldn't help but smirk at because, we're men, and sex was never a secret. "Okay, ya. We had sex."

Lavon smirks at me with pride and approval. Although, I'm positive that inside he's as giddy as a teenager watching Gossip Girl, now what he knows. "My man."

He tosses the watch over to me before his face grows serious once again. "Back to what's important. Did she say anything to you last night?"

Memories of last night play fresher in my mind now that I'm more awake, but they still come only in fragments. With a sigh, I sit down on the edge of her bed, ironically in the same place she had sat just hours ago, spilling her sorrows. "I remember some stuff, the sex for sure, but I wasn't exactly sober so I don't remember _everything_. I drove home after work and when I got out of my car I heard cryin' and shoutin' from her place. I thought something bad was going down, so I ran over and knocked on the front door. When she didn't answer, I pulled out my spare key to her front door - and don't look at me that way, I know you have one too!" Lavon stops rolling his eyes and nods at me to continue. "Anyways, I ran into her room and she was runnin' back and forth between her dressers and a suitcase she had open on the bed." I automatically glance at the empty bed space to my right where the suitcase had been laying last night. I was getting a serious feeling of deja vu. "I finally got her to say something and it was like, 'I can't do this'."

"What did she mean by 'this'?"

"Hell if I know! I asked her that same question and she got even more upset and started talking about how she felt like she was being thrown to the sharks or something. I can't really remember much after that. Except for the sex and waking up this morning in her bed."

I look up at Lavon and wait for him to say something. I'm not quite sure what I want him to say, but anything at all would be nice right about now. It's the silence that bothers me worst of all. At least with words, you could make out some kind of sense. And right now, absolutely nothing was making a bit of sense. I was growing more and more frustrated as each second, marked by the audible ticking of my watch, passes by. When Lavon finally speaks, it comes out listless and dull. It's obvious that he doesn't want to say what is about come out of his mouth. "I think we both know where she went."

So maybe I was lying when I said saying anything would be nice. Those few words Lavon said forced me finally to face the fact that I had been refusing to believe since I woke up alone. Could she really pack up and leave just like that?

The answer made me feel sick and overwhelmed with a suddenly urge to curl my hand into a tight fist and punch the wall. Because, Yes. Yes she could. Now she's up and left, stabbing a blade in our backs by not even bothering to saying goodbye. And it hurt. God, it _fucking_ hurt. Yet, no matter how much I want to blame her - how much I want to _hate_ her -, I can't. I can only point fingers at myself for being so naive as to think that there was something different -_special_- between her and I.

While I'm sitting here sounding like a Lifetime movie, she's probably halfway to NYC without a care in the world. She gets off without any regrets or worries and I get what feels like a punch in the gut. I mentally slap myself, because dammit I shouldn't care this much. I got what I had originally set out for; I had sex with Dr. Zoe Hart and that was all I wanted. She was just another name to add to my list - and that's all.

"Maybe she'll change her mind-"

I cut him off with a laugh that comes off cold and humorless. His optimism has no right to show itself right now."Why should I even care? I got what I wanted all along. I slept with Zoe _freaking_ Hart. She can do whatever the hell she wants now, I could care less."

Lavon rolls his eyes and I stare at him challengingly; daring him to say something. He does and it's exactly what I expect to hear from him. "You don't mean that."

This just makes me cackle and slap my knee. "Oh, but I do. If Zoe Hart doesn't care enough about us, then I don't care enough to concern myself with her. Good luck to wherever the hell life decides to take her-" I stand up and look him dead in the eyes with a smile. "- because I truly and honestly don't care." With those words, I leave Lavon standing in the room alone and head outside to my car. Slamming the door behind me as I fish my car keys out of my pocket, it occurs to me that I'm probably going to be late opening the Rammer Jammer.

But, I really don't give shit.

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><p><strong>Wade isn't to happy is he? <strong>

**Thanks for reading! Again, if you have any complaints, comments, or concerns message or review! Compliments are always welcome and super appreciated! Grammatical Errors you spot, alert me so I can fix 'em!**


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